


Wandering Romance

by Hopetofantasy



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: (abuse/non-con not done by Sobbe), Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Future, Angst and Feels, Break Up, Eventual Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Loss/Grief, M/M, Marked M for heavier themes, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Parenthood, Past Relationship(s), Post-Divorce, Rebounds, Relationship Problems, Sander and Robbe have a son, Self-Esteem Issues, Spiralling, Toxic Behavior, are you ready for the Sobbe rollercoaster?, his name is David, non-con elements, unhealthy thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:14:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23839705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopetofantasy/pseuds/Hopetofantasy
Summary: "A perfect, tight little family. But happy.Until one unfortunate day in May, in the year that David turned six."In the future, Robbe and Sander have a son named David. The only tie they have left with each other, actually. Because our lovers split up years ago, due to mistakes that were made in the past.So is their love strong enough to sustain a healthy friendship? Will they find their way to each other again or break all connections for good?
Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Comments: 42
Kudos: 169





	1. 'No one knows the pain'

_“David! Your dad’s here!”_ ****

Loud thundering on the stairs, caused by tiny child’s feet, followed by a high pitched exhale directed towards the man in the door. The later one immediately wrapped his arms around his hyperactive boy. Sighing deeply. The emotion on his face revealed unconditional love, as well as a vague sadness. **Hurt.** Hurt for the other man standing on the opposite side.

_“Papa, I missed you! OMG, did you color your hair again? I don’t see any brown anymore, I love the brown, papa, why did you change it? Oh and I -”_

_“David, let your father have some room to breathe, please. Go put on some shoes and bring your jacket, it’s cold out.”_

The 9 year old turned towards the other part of the parental couple. The deep brown in his eyes filled with such an invigorating energy. The color was something he inherited from Robbe. The lack of stopping the chaos in his head? That was such a Sander move. David truly was a piece of both. Even though, he wasn’t really born out of either of them, he simply belonged here.

_“But, paps, I don’t want to wear my own jacket!”  
_

_“What are you going to wear then?”_

_“Papa’s leather jacket!”_ he exclaimed, like it just was as easy as one plus one. The long blonde curls bouncing off his head, while he pulled at the hem of Sander’s coat. The beach blonde couldn’t help, but laugh fondly at his son’s statement. He really loved the boy like nobody else. Well, there may be a time, where he loved someone just as much.

_Gosh, Robbe, don’t think about that._

_“It’s okay, Robbe,”_ Sander directed the flashy smile towards him, knowing all too well he couldn’t say no to the both of them if they banded together. _“We’re just going to the movies anyways. The new cartoon movie is perfect for our tiny artist. Isn’t it?”_ A excited squeal filled the cold air between them. Apparently, he had touched David on a ticklish spot, trying to make him giggle.

Robbe couldn’t help, but feel the sting. The picture before his eyes made his heartache complete. Sander laughing along with their beautiful son, the beach blonde complementing the blond, energy matching tones, he even saw how David was starting to copy Sander’s mannerisms more and more. Reminding him, every day, of the mistake he once made.

The follow-up question made the atmosphere even more loaded. _“How’s Wouter? I didn’t see his car in the driveway? I thought he wasn’t working today?”_ , was asked. Ah, **there** it was. Another cut in his heart. Exactly the question he was trying to avoid. Another crossed line through his life. Something he didn’t intended to share with his ex. Not completely, at least.

 _“He hasn’t been around much, lately.”_ , he simply stated. Knowing that Sander would probably connect the dots later, he’d rather not discuss this in front of their son. It was difficult enough to maintain relationships in these situations. Especially when you were still friends with the other dad. They needed to be. Their child didn’t ask for this, he deserved to have a strong, loving family.

Something they’d made clear from the day they signed the divorce documents.

It only took a half an hour to get David ready, which was a record in Robbe’s book. After searching the entire room for his son’s shoes and inside the kitchen cabinets for his backpack ( _don’t ask, it’ll be easier if you. just. didn’t. ask_ ), he was finally able to hand over the week-bag, the dreaded jacket and wave them goodbye. A huge piercing smile on their little one’s face. And...

A loaded glance.

An electrified touch.

A last cheek kiss.

Before he slumped down against the back of the door.

-^-

It didn’t start out this way, you know. They were happy before. Before all the things that led up to this moment.

Wait, I’m jumping ahead.

Let me tell you a story. The story of a beautiful love shared between two boys. Boys who loved like they never loved before. They found each other, they lost each other and found each other again. Push and pull. To say that their love was a rollercoaster? That’s an understatement. It made them only stronger in the future.

Until, it didn’t.

In the week of Robbe’s 20th birthday, they decided to move to their own apartment. It was a tiny studio at the edge of the city centre. Just enough for the both of them. Their living room was filled by their bed, tossed clothes and a ratty couch, the kitchen was small enough to only fit a midget size refrigerator, a second-hand stove and one tiny kitchen counter. That they didn’t use anyways. Except... for... stuff. You know.

But it was perfect.

The best time of their lives.

When Robbe came home every day after class - his last year of IT & Webdesign - he would wrap his arms around his lover, who smelled of paint, citrus and himself. Kissing Sander was like being born again. Giving him goosebumps each time. No other feeling was as fierce. This bliss, this happiness. Making love to him, was heaven on earth. Nothing could compare. Nothing ever did.

Sander was struggling to get by on an artist's paycheck. He only sold one of his pieces to art collectors every other month. His talents weren’t always appreciated like they should’ve been. But he kept trying. Through his highs as well as his lows, he never gave up his two passions: his art and David Bowie. He once even made an entire collection of Bowie portraits.

Which would later caught the eye of a notorious gallery owner, asking him to join the alternative artist collective he was setting up. Filled with musicians, writers, painters. Sander’s people. But that would take at least a couple of more years of struggling. Of cheap dinners and scraping by on one paycheck. Until the year of David’s sixth birthday.

When Robbe made the mistake.

To say that their lives was perfect, was an huge overstatement though. Sander’s medication wasn’t always working like it needed to be, living together wasn’t quite the same as staying with their parents and Robbe’s studies took a lot out of him. And then came the day Jens came knocking on their door. With a statement that chilled their bones to the core.

_“Noor’s dead.”_

Shock.

Denial.

Sadness.

Such a beautiful soul that was forever lost. Never roaming the earth again. Never again her special artistic cooking or the scoffing if someone said something she considered dumb. Late night jamming sessions, wine spills on new couches, burning protests at parliaments, all saying ‘f-u society, I’m not your bitch’. All gone. The light that made all of their laughs a little brighter, was no more.

And their lives would never again be the same.

These emotions followed rapidly by anger. Because apparently, it was a drunk driver that had hit her car on the way home. On the way home to her family. A tight little group that’d only consisted of a proud surrogate uncle/roommate Jens and a small child, barely a year old. The latter one was a small detail that she’d left out of her stories of backpacking in the US of A. Something that Jens didn’t mention during the wild parties, set up by Moyo in his underground club.

The small child was already fatherless, but now he didn’t have a mom either. He had nobody to care for him. Jens put every single cent into his new start-up in New York and was in the process of moving there. Trying to set up a different life. Possibly meeting up with Jana again. Before all of this had happened, of course. Because who could’ve know?

So the boys didn’t have any other choice.

From the moment the both of them had seen the little, bubbly baby in his basket, crying out for his mom, they knew. The boy had nestled in their hearts. The sorrow was a little less harsh, when you could look into the eyes of someone so pure. Noor’s son needed them. It was what Robbe owed her. For her unconditional love. After all, she had been his voice of reason, his shoulder to cry on - even through international phone calls - when it all was too much. The harshness of life.

The Sobbe relationship rollercoaster.

So arrangements were made. A graduate job secured. A family-backed loan for a small house. And the adoption process started. It only took them a year, due to Aaron’s social work contacts, before they could call David theirs. David Ijzermans-Driesen. The only one that could call them ‘papa’ and ‘paps’. The most precious boy in the entire universe. And any other universe, for that matter. 

A perfect, tight little family. But happy.

Until one unfortunate day in May, in the year that David turned six.

-^-

_“Schat, don’t be so nervous. It’s me who’s supposed to be nervous, right?”_

Sander eyes twinkled with mischief. He was dragging Robbe along to the dress rehearsal for their ‘happening’. Yes, a happening. Like the ones in the times of hippie communes. Those kind of artsy fartsy things. The brown haired boy didn’t know what it had meant entirely, but whatever Sander was into, he couldn’t help but show it to his partner.

To be completely honest, their relationship gotten strained these last few months. Robbe felt more tired than anything else. Their son was in his first year of primary school, so this meant that evenings were filled with encouraging to practice reading and writing, plowing through his homework, all while trying to understand the problems that had manifested into his web code. His plate filled with heaps of work he couldn't get done.

He couldn’t really blame Sander, though, since this was the first time he finally caught a break in the artistic world. Yet, unconsciously, he counted the days that they didn’t touch each other. And they were a lot. At least, for a married couple of one year. They were supposed to be in their blissful period, filled with the constant desire to touch each other at any time at any place.

And that wasn’t the case.

So when he caught sight of a certain man, someone who wasn’t his husband, his heart skipped a slight beat. His hands were starting to get clammy, his voice caught in his throat and he didn’t know how to breath anymore. Robbe didn’t remember the last time this had happened with Sander. So, his immediate next thought, was shame and disgust.

For what he felt right now.

Yet, he couldn’t seem to look away. All during the dress rehearsal, his eyes were following the beautiful man who played along with his guitar in the background. His eyes were stars of stark blue, covered by a mop of light curls. The combination of these, together with a timid, yet mysterious air around him, immediately reeled him in. Worst part? He seemed to know Robbe was staring at him. Before he exited the area, he even turned back to wink at him.

Sander, of course, didn’t caught his boy’s entire thought process. He was still going on about the dynamics of the entire art installation. Even introducing his other half to a few new friends he’d made. A Spanish girl with colorful hair, a German boy with a too-cool-for-you gaze and pair of Italian guys with soft smiles. Their energy all flowed through one another, like single organism. Like they were all part of something better.

Robbe could understand why Sander was attracted to these kind of people. He however, still wanted the ask the question that lingered in the back of his mind. Who had been the beautiful model that gave him a wink? Was he still here? Did he expect something of him? He couldn’t do anything to someone else than Sander. Right? Right. It was wrong, with the capital W. So he let it be.

At least, that what’s he thought.

All through the happenings, the same feelings manifested. His eyes pulled towards the mysterious guy, instead of what his own husband was doing. While he heard the gasps of the audience around him, he gasped at the intense stare. While the people were getting closer to see the entire act, he’d fill his mind with thoughts about what he would do with the man before him.

Laying him down on the floor.

Touching him.

Kissing him.

Making his way with him.

Sander seemed to know Robbe wasn’t really raving about the entire art thing. So he never asked why his eyes glanced over every time he brought up the performances. He waited patiently for his lover to talk about his thoughts. What maybe bothered him? But, that was the thing: he didn’t. Robbe didn’t say a word. He just... stared. Longingly.

At someone else.

On the fourth week of mutual silence, Sander spiraled. His words reeling with pain, with agony. They still didn’t know what caused the bipolar episode. They both wished they did though, because it was a really, really bad one. Never before had Sander called him names. Never before did he make Robbe cry with desperation.

He wouldn't let him touch him. Sander backed away, saying bad things about himself. He was a total waste of space, so why would Robbe even bother about loving him? Why would their son ever love him? He was broken.

And Robbe let his tears fall.

He blamed himself. Because of the thoughts he had about the unknown man. He deserved this. A loveless touch, a hollow kiss, a silenced dagger thrown at his heart. His body felt something for someone else, so he deserved so much worse. This was just tip of the ice-berg. It’s what he manifested. What he cooked up in his own thoughts that made Sander hate him. Robbe knew it was all his fault.

His rational mind knew that these feelings were ridiculous. Sander wasn’t his MI. His lover always saw the best in him, it was just the chemicals in his brain that sometimes fought with each other. And that, was maybe even worse. Knowing that Sander would always love him, no matter what? Even when his episode was at his lowest, while Robbe was looking at someone else?

It broke him.

His fault.

Toxic.

For feeling the wrong things towards the wrong guy.

Sander saw it happening. After the episode, when he climbed out of the canyon of hurt, he still tried to pull his lover out of his own spiral. He touched his cluttered mind, wanted to break through the newly built walls and screamed out in frustration to shock him. But Robbe slowly became more silent. He reverted back to his older self, his younger, less pronounced ‘me’. The one who was insecure about every step he took. About every thing he did. About their love.

And that’s when he broke them.

Fights were more the norm in their household than lovemaking. David kept running towards either of the boys asking if they were angry at each other. To stop crying. To stop shouting. To stop hurting each other. He wanted papa and paps to be happy again. He wanted to kiss all the boo-boos away, making their hearts hurt even more.

So, after a bunch of whispered discussions, a few stints at a crappy couples counselor - some smuck that didn’t even remember their names - and a few months of loaded silence, they knew. This wasn’t healthy anymore. Sander gave and gave and gave, while Robbe ran. He ran away from love. They knew it had to stop. It was healthier this way. To catch a break.

To breathe.

A breath that was stolen only once more. Their lips connected, the tears flowed. Their bodies felt the hurt between them, while they were making love. For the last time. Pieces of heart exchanged, never truly whole again. Grasping at the air surrounding them. Emerald eyes lingering into brown. The touch of heaven. Never again. All over. Discarded. 

Making the biggest mistake in both their lives:

They split up.

-^-

_“Don’t forget, Robbe”  
_

_“I won’t.”  
_

_“I’m serious”_

_“I know.”_

_“David won’t stop babbling on about this.”_

_“Yes, Sander, he’s my son too. I know this already!”_

_“...”  
_

_“Sorry...”  
_

_“... It’s okay.”_

Robbe sighed, fidgeting with the cellphone in his hand. A headache starting to build up behind his eyes. Why did Sander call him again? Like he didn’t know about the biggest event of the school year? The annual show on Saterday, open to every parent interested in sending their kids to the school as well as the parents of attending children.

_“He just wants us to be there. Maybe we could invite the rest of the boys?”_

_“I’ll ask them. I don’t know if Jens can get a babysitter on such short notice, though. Jana is pretty busy with her job as a lawyer, you know that.”_

_“Come on, try to convince them to come. Maybe Amber has time to babysit the kids. It’s been a while since David has seen his uncles!”_

Robbe thought long and hard about this statement. It _had_ been a while, since he saw his best friends. Nowadays, their lives were filled with juggling their family lives as well as responsibilities at work, while maintaining a healthy lifestyle with their respective partners. Not that he didn’t know how difficult it could be.

Only recently, he’d acquired the new lecturing job at the IT departement, making way more pay and significantly better hours, so he could focus his time on David. Robbe really liked this job though. Educating other young people in the world of digits and numbers. Something that always made sense even if your life was insecure. Exactly why he studied IT and Webdesign in the first place, to balance out his own life. 

_“Robbe, are you there?”_ , Sander voice whispered soothingly. Like only an ex-lover could, he somehow knew every doubt in Robbe’s mind. _“You know, you don’t have to invite them if you don’t want to. I’m sure he'll be fine with just the three of us. David will be proud to show us his performance. He’s been raving about this Bowie song, ever since they made the announcement.”_

_“The three of us?”_

_“Yeah, you, me and Wouter?”_

_“Ah. Yes.”_

_“You know, your boyfriend?”_ , the voice chuckled.

Since a month ago, Robbe’s free weeks were filled with unhealthy habits again. Pigging out on junk food, vegetating on the couch, binging Netflix shows. Only, his friends or Sander didn’t need to know about this. David barely met his ex-boyfriend, thank god. They weren't supposed to know about the nasty fights between him and Wouter.

About the black eyes, cuts and bruises.

The disgusting words.

The break-up...

But yeah,

Robbe deserved all of it anyways.

 _“Robbe...”_ , he heard the other whisper.

_“You do know I don’t have a problem with him, right? I mean, it’s been ages since the two of us were ever together. You deserve a healthy love-life. Someone to call yours. Someone who loves you. You deserve someone who want to give you the world. I don’t like you being alone. I want to see you happy...”_

He didn’t knew why Sander said these things to him. Robbe didn’t deserve it. Because all he brought upon his lovers was worry and anger. Everything he touched, would turn out more and more toxic. During their teenage years, Sander had said something similar to him, right after an episode. And he didn’t believe it. He never will. Since it was _him_ that made everything worse.

Not Sander. Not Wouter. Not any of his other previous flings.

**Him.**

_“You know what I think about that, Sander.”_

_“Robbe...”_

_“I’ll ask the boys, okay?”  
_

_“But Robbe, I-”  
_

_“Give David a kiss for me!”_

He quickly disconnected the line, before Sander could say something back.

He simply didn’t want to know.

Focussing his thoughts on anything else, pulling out a vague sketch their son had made. Apparently, his drawing class was paying off. David made the outline of a tree, standing lonely in a grove. The environment around it was completely bare. No grass. Yet, at the outlines you could still see the branches of other trees. Never touching.

Something felt off.

Robbe shook his head. He was probably projecting his own feelings onto the paper. It was just a grove of trees, for god’s sake. An amazing technique. Some intense colors. It truly made the sketch vibrate. Their tiny boy was filled with lots of surprises.

You see, both parents still didn’t know what song he’d picked to sing for them Saturday. _“Something special”_ , David said with a glint in his eyes, before packing his bag for his stay at Sander’s.

The co-parenting system was a bitch as well as a blessing. He’d love to see his boy more than every other week, but some ‘me-time’ wasn’t bad either. Having this free time for himself was a privilege. Time to sort out stuff in the house, work ahead for the school year or take relaxing baths. Maybe go to a bar and hook up with someone, without having his hyperactive kid bursting in.

Not that he felt up for _that_ right now.

But he truly was happy with the 9 year old. Every moment with him was an extra day of unconditional love. A love that was consistent. A gift that kept on giving. A reflection of a beautiful soul lost. But also a mirror for Sander and him. For their past love. 

Robbe was happy.

Or at least, he thought he was.

_(But he wasn’t)_


	2. 'No one sees what I see in you'

_“So this is it then?”_

_A beautiful boy with mesmerizing eyes lying in his arms. The warmth of love. It felt like puzzle pieces finally fitting together, after months of frustration and searching for anything that might look like it. Something that had been missing for quite some time. It just didn’t add up? Long sighs, hurtful eyes, loaded silences that made them more sad than happy. Their love wasn’t strong enough to deal with this..._

_No, he didn’t believe that._

_They **were** strong enough. _

_Just not now..._

_He was caressing the cheek of his lover, his best friend, his partner in crime. Another part of the pair, the amazing family they had. Fathers. Their boy. All tossed away, like it was nothing. A paper crumbled in the trash. Like they never even were. And because of what? Why? Why now? Why this? This wasn’t right. They both knew it wasn’t._

_He sighed to stop the spiraling._

_His hands started to clench into a fist. He was so angry at first, he was so angry and sad at the world. He was promised forever, they both promised each other that their love would survive anything. The perfect man in a beautiful white suit and him wearing the black one. Ying and yang. Always complimenting each other, begging for a deeper connection, receiving it and now cutting it away._

_Like his heart._

_“Is this it? Can’t we keep trying? Please?”  
_

_His eyes were staring inside those deep ones. His tanned skinned hand slightly caressing his lover’s arm. Mindlessly. They were used to pillow talk until the early morning, the sunrise. The night sky turning from dark blue to light orange hues, exactly the color he once made by accident, trying out the paint samples on his palette. A beautiful coincidence. Just like the night they met._

_As if faith knew._

_When the other boy didn’t answer, he just went for it. His lips trying to convey everything he felt inside the troubled mind, his hands feeling every hitched breath taken away from his other half, the softness of a wanted caress, but also the sting from nails digging in his back, the bite of pleasure, the strained movement of legs - as if love couldn’t be felt without some pain. It suited them, he thought. Every day could be a high. Every day could be a low._

_His fingers gripped the sheets of their shared bed. Sharing it for the last time._

_“Oh my god, schat”, exclaimed the one.  
_

_“I love you”, answered the other.  
_

_“I love you too”, was moaned.  
_

_“Don’t leave me, please”, was said._

_A tear rolling off a heated cheek._

_Kissed by soft eyelashes._

_The silence that followed wasn’t wounding. It was passion, it was love, it was a high that never experienced a low. A white light behind the eyes. Stars for their lights. Something shared only between them. And never would be again._

_“Let **us** go... please”_

_The whisper._

And that’s when Sander woke up from his dream.

When he started to cry.

-^-

_“Papa, can I ask you something?”  
_

_“Yes, darling, always. What is it?”  
_

_“How did you and paps meet?”_

Oof, that was such a loaded question for a Monday morning. And he didn’t even have his first coffee yet. His eyes instantly analyzed David’s face, which was just a pure reflection of playfulness and wonder. The tiny boy seemed to _concoct_ something on his breakfast croissant. It looked like choco spread, decorated with speculaas cookies. 

_What is this? Where the hell did he get that idea? This can’t be healthy right?_

_“Sweetie, did you eat a hearty sandwich before shoving this in your mouth? You can’t live on sweets, you know that. You won’t grow to be a big boy, then!”  
_

_“But, papa, I like it. Can I have this, like... one time?”_

_Oh no, not the puppy eyes._

He was a real manipulator with those big brown orbs. The kid was 9 years old, for God’s sake, how could he be this smart? He knew exactly how to play the game to convince them of mischievous things, things that were bad for him and stuff they needed to say ‘no’ to. But it was sooo rewarding to just say ‘yes’. Just to see the beautiful grin creep up onto the face he loved so much. 

Something Sander wanted to collect in a jar and pull out whenever he had his ‘cloudy days’. David didn’t understand the concept of bipolarity yet, so once he was old enough to notice something, they had sat him down to explain. _“David, sweetie. You know how papa is sometimes a bit different?”_ , Robbe tried to approach the subject, while their son stared with unsung tears in his eyes. 

_“Yeah, he lies on the bed and sleeps and don’t eat and is very, very sad. Don’t understand. Does papa hate me? Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry...”_

If the room was a stethoscope, the family would’ve heard a heart breaking. It was one thing that Robbe had to deal with his mania and depression. Now another innocent soul was being corrupted by his stupid brain and Sander just couldn’t deal with that. The pain he might induce, the worry in his soul almost growing too much. But as always, his other half seemed to know what to do. While holding his hand, to anchor him back to this world, Robbe explained.

_“No, darling. Papa will always love you. Even if you did bad things. But now you didn’t do anything wrong, okay? You see, people have a bright sun inside them. And sometimes that happy, beautiful sun will have clouds blocking their light. Clouds who bring in bad weather, like being tired, not being hungry, not wanting to talk, have sad thoughts, just wanting to sleep all the time. And that’s okay. Because after a few days of rain, comes the sunshine, right?”_

_“And sometimes a rainbow!”_ , their beautiful boy exclaimed. 

A couple of teeth missing in the front, but his smile was beaming nonetheless. It melted their hearts. _“Yes,”_ Sander whispered softly. If he wasn’t sure about how much he loved his curly angels before, he knew now. When did he become so lucky to have such beautiful love? Him and his loving partner hugging their soft boy, giggling all together, without a care in the world. A fulfilling life.

Perfection. 

_**“Papa, are you there?”** _

Sander blinked back some tears, while trying to focus on the situation at hand. David was glaring at him, already halfway through the disgustingly sweet croissant in his hands. Some crumbs were falling down the plate. And the choco paste tainting his pink cheeks. The look in his face was peculiar, like he tried to figure out what his dad was thinking. If he was going ‘cloudy’.

_“David... I do remember that I never told you ‘yes’, right?”_

The answer was a simple shrug.

_“You didn’t answer my question about paps, either. C’est la vie.”_

To say that Sander was perplexed, was an serious understatement. 

-^-

When Sander was thirteen, he _knew_. 

He wasn’t **normal**.

This was way before he was diagnosed with bipolarity, but that wasn’t the only thing not fitting the ‘standard normal’. He knew the boys in his class and he simply didn’t like them. They were all talking about video games, Call Of Duty: Black Ops, while eating their weight in greasy snacks and referring to girls like pieces of meat. Making jokes about what they learned from their older siblings or watching too much nighttime television. 

And he didn’t. 

He liked to write, he wanted to be a writer someday. And paint. Drawing was amazing. Sander loved walking around with cut jeans, graphic band t-shirts and a bleached buzzcut. One day, he’d love to have a pierced eyebrow. That was considered cool in his book. Maybe his career would be ‘rock-and-roll’ artist, since he played the drums too. Something to get his energy out. 

Because he had ADHD. 

At least, that’s what his doctor said. He just wanted different things than others and sometimes all at once. Was that weird? Apparently so. But he wasn’t entirely convinced about having the disorder. It sounded ill-fitting. Like a shrunken skinny jeans in the dryer, the broken mug in his room where he put his discarded pencils. It didn’t make sense.

Because he was who he was. 

He **liked** who he was. 

But who was he exactly?

He knew the day he changed schools. His mom somehow knew, the way only mothers do, that the previous school wasn’t the right fit for him. His course orientation was ‘sciences’ and he almost failed everyone of his classes. Sander was struggling to keep afloat. Almost drowning at the formulas and facts and figures. Those were more abstract to him than art. Art made sense somehow?

And that’s why his mom send him to an art school. 

There he saw people with asymmetric hair, nose rings and cut t-shirts. Girls with alluring auras, rainbow shoes and paint covered arms. Boys with mesmerizing eyes, fresh make-up and decorated backpacks. Beautiful souls who talked about art like breathing. Who understood things like writer’s block, portrait frustration and tunnel vision.

And he fell in love with them, all of them. 

His _people_.

It took him a few years to understand what else made him special. Because he did fall in love with people’s souls, their auras, instead of a specific gender. It was a highlight in his life when he figured that one out. He finally knew another piece of the puzzle. Life was complicated, but knowing something more about yourself, made it so much easier. 

His first crush was on a dark skinned boy from his drawing class. He didn’t reciprocate feelings, but liked Sander as a friend. Ekon appreciated the way Sander caught him in his art pieces. Complimented him on how he perfectly attained his off-beat smile, when someone made a joke at his expense. He was a quiet boy. But a boy, nonetheless. 

And then there was Saartje. An unconventional girl, even for an art school. She seemed to walk around like an ice queen surrounded by raging fires. Hated every thing he suggested to lift her sculptures to a new level, always answering his comments with a cold stare. Such a soft girly name for such a bitch.

And Sander couldn’t help but fall.

Hard. 

Without parachute.

But she used that to her advantage.

His love was treated as an exchange. If Sander would shut up about his newest passion called David Bowie, she’d give him a kiss. When he asked her on a date, she would think about it. Maybe if Sander could persuade the teacher to give her a better grade? And if he paid? Being the hormonal teenager he was, he obliged. And he believed. He was tricked into uncertain love. 

Something he carried with him.

Especially after his eventual diagnosis. He dated Britt. He thought he deserved this kind of love. The uncertainty, the doubt, the hardships. It was all his brain’s fault, for being the way he was. Love? Love was something to be earned, not to be given. And nobody would give that up so easily for someone as broken as him. 

Until that one boy, 

in the moonlight.

He never saw true beauty ‘til this night. 

And his heart,

did love as true again.

-^-

_“Do you want any help with that?”  
_

_“Papa, I know how to make myself look like Bowie, you know.”_

The beach blonde snorted. He was truly a son of his, wasn’t he? This tiny boy was sitting on a high chair, right in front of a mirror, attempting to put on the make-up in a dramatic way. The tip of his tongue spilling out his lips, trying very hard to focus. Sander couldn’t stop staring at this sight, which filled him with pride. He must have taught him well. 

The next generation was secured.

 _“Dad, stop staring at me and go find my other dad.”_ , David said sternly. 

_Ok, but who was the parent in this relationship exactly?_ Sometimes Sander didn't know. Yet, catching the eye of the supervisor right behind him, he was sure that everything was going to be a-okay. Maybe he did needed to find Robbe and the boys. It’ll do him some good. It had been ages since they had some real interaction that wasn’t through a phone.

It wasn’t difficult to spot them through the crowd of curious adults. The exaggerated screaming at each other was enough. Robbe had been pulled into the biggest hug by Milan, flanked by a jumping Moyo, giggling Aaron and a serious Jens. It sounded like the weirdest end of the world. But the feeling that coursed through his heart wasn’t unusual. 

Pride. 

For what they all achieved. 

How they all stayed together.

Through hell and back.

Moyo had, somehow, become a successful club owner of a couple of nightlife establishments all around the city. From an only-known-by-initiates speakeasy to a high paid, high-end sky club, he knew what he wanted to do with his life and brought it to the table. Jens, on the other hand, went on a totally different route. After failing to run a few start-ups, he became a video editing/sound mix freelancer and stay-at-home dad to help his lawyer-wife.

Aaron was still on the grind as a social worker, working until late at night to fight for the hardest cases. _“These people deserve a happy ending”_ , he’d always say. And Sander couldn’t agree more.

Last but not least, Milan. The interior designer with an ecological mind. He had helped them out with the decoration of their home, which was totally picture perfect. And still cheap as f.

After the whole ordeal of greeting, Robbe seemed to have a huge smile plastered on his face. _That was good_ , Sander thought. Lately he looked so lost, certainly in Sander’s neighborhood. And he didn’t know why. As far as he knew, he didn’t say or do anything wrong. On the contrary. He’d encouraged Robbe to bring Wouter along, saying it was totally okay to find love again.

Where _was_ that bastard, anyways?

“Heeeeeey, Jack Frost!”, the entire group turned towards him and engulfed him into an instant hug. Causing a lot of high pitched giggling, ‘omg, your hand is on my butt’-s and eye rolls. The warmth next to him was familiar, though. As was the scent. Which made his heart drum a little harder, like it wasn’t stating the obvious already. Pulling away, the electrified gaze lingered.

 _“How are you?”,_ the one asked.

 _“I’m good.”,_ the other answered. 

He wanted to know more. Sander always wanted to know more. His heart never stopped beating for this boy, so everything he would say, would be engraved in his soul. His broken mind. His eternal love. That would never change. Even through the pain, he knew that they belonged together. That it was neither fault. Life just happened. 

**Like always.**

But before he could ask anything else, a woman approached the brown haired man. Some colorful glasses, a beautiful classic dress and an intrigued smile on her face. Robbe immediately greeted her as ‘Mrs. Raymaeckers’. _“I saw David backstage. Are you ready to see the performance, Mr. Ijzermans?”_ , she politely asked. Robbe slowly nodded his head with a careful smile. 

_“Ofcourse, David is going to be amazing, he was bouncing off the walls about this. I’m interested in what he’s going to play...”_

_“Ah yes. The David Bowie thing. He’s truly special, isn’t he? Unique in some ways.”_ , she giggled, while wrapping her hand around his arm. Causing a lot of heads unsubtly turning towards the gesture. 

_"I love how he has such a playful spirit. Does he have that from his father or his mother?”_. She blinked rapidly. Auburn hair tossed over her shoulder. A beaming smile.

Wait...

Was she... 

Trying to flirt with him?

A potential married man?

Sander saw how the other boys desperately held in their laughs. Some of them failed. Robbe’s cheeks reddened slightly, like he didn’t know how to answer this delicate question.

She just assumed he was straight?  
  
That was such _heteronormativity_.

It irked the beach blonde man, that people could still think this way, like a child couldn’t have two fathers or mothers?

_“He has that from me, actually.”_

Six pairs of eyes bore into his. Most of them applauding the ballsy move on his part, one of them grateful for this way out. The last, however, went through a whole process.

Confusion, calculation, realization and shame. 

_“Oh... I’m sorry.”,_ Mrs. Raymaeckers sheepishly stated. _"I didn’t know. I just assumed... Ahem. Well, I’m gonna check the rest. Bye, Mr Ijzermans. Bye, Mr-”_

 _“Driesen.”,_ he answered coldly.

 _“Bye, Mr. Driesen.”_ And with that, she was gone. As fast as the wind.

 _He didn’t like it._

He just didn’t. 

How people could still think the way they did, how they would just come up to potential married men and flirt with them? How was that okay?

He knew he was clenching his fist, because of the pain. Fingernails making tiny half moons. It stung. Jealousy and anger tasting like poison in his mouth. His stare trying to find a fixated spot to calm his breathing.

He found it in some deep brown eyes.

A cautious smile coming towards him. He knew. Robbe always knew what Sander needed, even when he didn’t know himself. He was intuitive that way. His beautiful man, such a perfect human. The father of his child. And he couldn’t help but sigh. Breathing slowly, heart thumping. A small caress around his fist, trying to soften the harsh ache. Only making the ache in his heart greater. 

_“Robbe”,_ he whispered silently.

_“Yeah, Sander?”_

He didn’t say anything more. He couldn’t. Robbe needed to live his own life, making his own mistakes, battle his own prejudices. Feeling his own real love. So Sander just stood there. Looking at the face he adored the most, while he started to notice something. It almost looked like Robbe was anticipating this, was waiting for some kind of answer, some kind of truth.

And that's when they heard it. 

A David Bowie lookalike coming onto the stage. 

Childlike coughing in the microphone.

The first notes of a guitar riff.

The scratchy start of ‘doodoodoo'.

The song.

David Bowie.

**The sign.**

_“You've got your mother in a whirl  
She's not sure if you're a boy or a girl  
Hey babe, your hair's alright  
Hey babe, let's go out tonight  
You like me, and I like it all  
We like dancing and we look divine  
You love bands when they're playing hard  
You want more and you want it fast  
They put you down, they say I'm wrong  
You tacky thing, you put them on._

_Rebel rebel, you've torn your dress  
Rebel rebel, your face is a mess  
Rebel rebel, how could they know?  
Hot tramp, I love you so!”_


	3. 'No one feels the same'

It was the sound of crying that woke him up.

He wasn’t dreaming anyways, because his dreams were reflections of his mind. And his mind didn’t want to cooperate, at least not for the last few hours. He knew why, though. He just didn’t wanted to acknowledge it. He wasn’t even entirely aware of drifting back to awareness. He didn’t want to face the world. The world was filled with empty pain and love lost. True love felt like an illusion, even when he tasted it for a while. 

It all tasted sour now...

He slowly hauled his tired body of his yellow, crumpled sheets and tried to identify where the sound came from. Some lingering thoughts forming on the outskirts of his empty mind. ‘Why was this happening?’ ‘Why did it sound like such an agonizing heartbreaking thing?’ ‘This feels so deep, too deep...’ 

He simply didn’t know.

He acted on instinct, when he crawled towards the mop of curls, bouncing on top of a blubbering mess. Legs tangled into the soft blanket, a hollowed ball of sorrow on the barely fitting mattress, nails unconsciously scratching the arms, leaving deep red marks. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be permanent. Even when the pain felt like it was. But he simply couldn’t ignore it. 

He felt it too.

His own heart broke at the sobs.

A mirror to his own feelings.

_“Robbe...”_

No answer. Just the sound of pain put away for too long, underneath multiple steel layers. A sudden halt to the loudest sobs. Softer tears streaming down the angelic face. Him even crawling deeper into himself. Unclear mumblings. A nail struck harder into the white skin. 

A slight drop of red.

Sander couldn’t ignore _that._ He immediately grabbed the other’s hands, pulling them towards the side. As a result, causing the soft body to fall into his own. An older pattern from days long before. When they looked at each other for hours on end, forgot the world ever existed and their bedroom air was filled with laughter or passion. Sander didn’t want- he didn’t try to reflect. 

He tried. But he failed.

_“Robbe, wake up! WAKE UP!”_

Dark brown eyes shot open to meet the green. Teary, tired and hollow. Things Sander knew best. He felt like somewhat of a specialist in these feelings, unfortunately, not by choice. Fate had dealt him a bad hand. But never for this love. _True love_ , his mind whispered. For the silent boy staring at the deep green of his soul. The one who immediately crawled closer to his warmth. 

Who brushed softly over the broken, red skinned knuckles of his right hand. 

Who silently whispered _“sorry”_ to him.

Who didn’t even need to do that.

Who pulled his face closer.

Laid hands on his side.

Breathed on his lips.

Took one second.

And eventually...

 _Made Chernobyl happen_.

-^-

Only few hours earlier, they were met with different feeling: enthusiasm.

 _“God, I missed you two”_ , the raven haired boy exclaimed, while grasping at both his and Robbe’s arm. It had been too long, though, when they truly had a boy’s night. A real night of good clean fun. Just with the five of them. 

Unfortunately, life happened. Jobs happened. Kids happened. Well, maybe not unfortunately, _**gratefully**_ , but it was just hard to say goodbye to your youth. And say hello to responsibilities. To unpaid bills on the counter. To tired days alone.

To broken minds in the night. 

_Yeah, okay, Sander, time to tone you down a little._

“Yeah, boys, we really need to do that trip we’re always talking about. That road trip to nowhere. Just a week without anything, like we said right?”, the beach blonde answered. His answer lighting up all the faces around the table. 

Aaron was bouncing his head to the idea, always eager to explore more, to learn more. Robbe looked at him with puzzled eyes. Thank god that their son had a sleepover, because this was probably going to be an eventful night.

Moyo barked out his roaring laugh. _“Like we don’t keep planning that thing, over and over again. Last time we brought it up, it was right before Robbe started dating someone else again. The time before, Jens decided to spew out a couple of kids. And then that time we came up with it, the whole thing with N-”_

The brown skinned boy suddenly stopped, winching at his unfinished sentence. They all knew what he meant, though. It had been just a couple of nights before Noor’s death. One of the few magical ‘before’ moments they collectively remembered. Like they could survive anything. Knowing that they were there, filled by drunken laughter, silly jokes and endless teasing. The prologue to the rest of their lives. They didn’t know at the time.

He tried to examine his friend’s face, catching Robbe doing the exact same thing. They had conversations about this. Maybe Moyo never truly knew, what she had meant to him, himself. There had been lingering _somethings_ in the past. Treaded paths not taken. Careful whispers, loaded glances and brushed lips, too subtle if you didn’t had the knack to pick it up. But the ex-couple did. 

He saw how Moyo gripped his glass tighter, urging the gold liquid through his throat. He coughed, asked the rest if they needed anything and walked away with the platter of empty drinks. A glimpse of shiny eyes. Leaving an awkward silence between the squad. 

It was Jens, who eventually broke it. 

_“I think he never got over it, you know?”_ , looking at his trembling hands. 

_“Who ever did?”,_ the other curly boy answered hoarsely.

_“We never did. It wouldn’t have been fair to her.”_

Sander nodded along. 

Sometimes, he caught himself looking at his son, with a heavy breath, seeing _her_ in his features. Reopening all the old wounds from before. But then, his heart would fill with unconditional love again, because, thank god they still had a part of Noor on this world. Readily to love. To see how he would grow. How he would blossom into more than he already gave today. Pride.

_“I miss her.”_

_“Me too.”_

_“Me too.”_

_“Me too.”_

_Loss is a part of you, it never leaves._

_“Guys...”_ , Jens choked out next. _“... I need to say... I’m sorry...”_

Again, a curveball they hadn’t anticipated. The boy’s eyes were slowly filling up with tears. They all remained silent, nodding along, knowing that this was something Jens needed to say. The group were never big on feelings, but this sure felt like a beginning. Therapy. Catharsis. A peace of mind.

 _“I’m sorry.”_ , the dark haired started rambling. _“This is hard for me to admit. But, I should’ve never kept David a secret for you all. I mean, it’s just... Noor wanted to have some time... to deal with all of this, right? She panicked the moment the stick turned blue. I never knew who the guy was and she never told me, either. But then she made me promise never to tell anyone, even you all._

_Noor tried to fade into the background more, so nobody would ask what was happening. I shouldn’t have supported that decision... But it’s what she wanted. Trying to set up a stable life. A 9 to 5 job, a savings account and an own apartment. She even took the crappy job at the art school, that paid less than her talents were worth. But she was happy, you know?”_

Sander felt the urge to lay a hand on Jens’ shoulder. Robbe seemed to have the same thought, because he was already doing it. They really needed to stop with this telepathy thing. It was starting to freak him out. They _weren’t_ a couple anymore.

_“I... I loved her like a sister. I thought she was going to be a great mom. And I was there as the fun uncle, not necessarily the father figure. Noor didn’t want that. She could do it on her own. “I can change the diaper myself, idiot”, she’d yell at me, while throwing some of the baby powder in my face. “I don’t need a babysitter, Jens.” “Go live your life.” She would laugh at the things I did. She was always stubborn like that, you know?”_

A shared, watery smile.

The way Jens told this story, though, it felt as if she was standing right next to them. Her presence felt so tangible. Sander could feel her, rolling her eyes, screaming things like _“Are you really all crying over me, now, almost a decade later? Dude, wtf, have some fun. Talk about tv shows. Cars. Beer. Idk. Not death. What the hell, people? Get some shots!”_ Hands would be thrown. 

He wanted to revel in that ghostly warmth. Celebrate her life. Find a perfect spot to spray a huge, damn mural. Instead, he said: _“Jens. We know how she was. Please, don’t say sorry. We know how you tried. We know she was stubborn. She would say the same if she was here. You never did something wrong. Sometimes fate is just an a-hole. She shouldn’t have died so young. You couldn’t have known.”_

He pinched the raven boy’s arm, trying to make him look up. He was met with a face filled with pain. _“One day, we will tell David about her story. All together. He’s smart, he knows a lot of biology already and next year, he’ll get sex education in school. We’ll have to tell him some time how he came to be, who he is and what he means to us, right? We can do that.”_

_“Together”_

The deep brown found his, exactly like they should. He knew Robbe said those words, before his mind registered them. As if he was thinking with his heart. As if he ever _**stopped**_ thinking with his heart. His other hand trailed towards the other, knowing it would be there without question. And their fingers intertwined. 

Then he saw that a certain someone had eavesdropped on their conversation. 

Moyo had took a while to come up for air again...

They had let him.

Because they understood. 

-^-

Conversation had become more of an option rather than a necessity. Faces started to blur, music roared in his brain and sweat drops rolled from his skin. After the bar, they’d found their way to the city centre, to some obscure underground club Moyo said ‘was the bomb’. The atmosphere felt invigorating, as if a painting came to life. Filled with colors, vibes and feelings. Much more of an extreme Bosch than a calming Monet.

A few shots in, Aaron somehow caught the eye of a beautiful brunette. Since he’d never truly grown out of his awkward phase, it had been a blast to see that train wreck happening. And in no way, they were gonna save him from that situation. It was too funny to let it slide. 

It almost felt like the old times. Almost.

Because as intoxicated as he was, he felt _his_ burning gaze. He didn’t had to look. He knew what he would see if he decided to turn towards his ex-lover. An excruciating mix of hurt, pining and lust. A reflection of his. They knew each other better than any other soul on the world, so it came as no surprise that they felt similar about the whole situation. 

He just didn’t know if he wanted to open that can of worms.

Ever since the David Bowie performance by their son, there had been something _more_. Even more longing, even more hurt, even more doubt. But Robbe had a boyfriend. The exes shared a beautiful son. They were divorced. They couldn’t just do what they wanted, without consequences. There were others involved. Sander just didn’t know how long he could it hold off anymore.

On cue with his thoughts, the boys suddenly decided to ditch them both, to buy some stuff from a backdoor dealer. Something to take the edge off, he guessed. They’d eventually come back, but that wouldn’t negate the predicament they’d put him in. He didn’t dare to move inside his ex’ neighborhood. He didn’t want to leave him alone either. So he was stuck either way.

The answer came in the form of a drunk body colliding with his, punching him right off the barstool. The helping hand, the held breath, the brown eyes. His soulmate’s eyes. _What was it with them? What made them so interesting?_ So filled with love and passion and hurt and just so many emotions at the same time. He once tried to put them on paper, but he never got them right.

His brain couldn’t function anymore.

He let his hands do the work. They grasped the shirt in front of him, a vaguely familiar black one, and pulled hard. His shiny lips just one breath away and Robbe was already closing his eyes, moaning loudly. Moaning his name. Sending all kinds of emotions through his body. He just needed to take that next step. Slowly... pulling... in...

Before Robbe was forcefully pushed away from him.

 _“I need to talk to you, **NOW**!!!” _A rough voice yelled. 

_“Okay...”_ The other answered carefully.

And Robbe was pulled away, leaving a nauseous Sander behind.

-^-

He didn’t meant to eavesdrop.

_He didn’t._

Really.

He never thought he was gonna hear Robbe argue with his boyfriend.

It clicked in his brain, the minute he bought some water and went outside for some fresh air. Sobering him up a little. Second guessing what he was about to do, a few minutes ago. To maybe ruin the careful friendship they developed, after so much pain and memories. Maybe it was better to be saved by the bell than to make that mistake again.

But then he heard him. 

_“... kissing your ex!”_

_“I wasn’t kissing my ex, Wouter!”  
_

_“You were about to! Don’t bullshit me, Robbe. This is one of the reasons you broke up with me, didn’t you? To get back together with that lowlife?”  
_

Excuse me?! What was he insinuating? He was a productive member of society, thank you. His work brought in enough to pay his bills, take care of his son and even save some up for later. He wasn’t a lowli-

Hold up, did Robbe’s boyfriend just say that they _BROKE UP_?!

 _“He’s not a lowlife! He’s my ex, he’s the father of my child and he’s not the reason we broke up either!”_ Robbe retaliated right away. 

_“Then why did we, Robbe? I don’t get it. I thought we were good together...”_ Wouter seemed to try another approach. Whispers instead of yelling. He could see the body language changing from a harsh, defensive stance to a softer approach. It made Sander’s skin crawl. He didn’t know why. It was some sort of vibe that was just... _off_.

_“We weren’t good together. I don’t know if you noticed, but we were NEVER good together. And you know exactly why...”_

Wouter held up his hand, trying to touch Robbe’s cheek, wanting to calm him down. Yet, that last one immediately slapped the hand away. He could see how it affected the now-apparent-ex. How the hands started to form fists. The eyes started to flinch. Similar to a bull preparing to strike towards the matador.

_“Oh yeah? You thought we were never good together, huh? What are you insinuating? I picked you off the metaphorical street, Robbe, because you were so heartbroken over someone who didn’t even think twice about dumping you. Even with your collective history. I build you back up to the man you are now. I made sure you were loved, that you had your needs filled, that you could call me whenever you wanted. And I did that, didn’t I. Right?!”_

A flash of doubt on the other’s face. His expression filled with contradictory emotions, his body freezing at the featherlight touch of Wouter’s finger trailing his cheek and his eyes... Sander never saw them this pained. Eventually, after a short silence, the brown haired boy whispered: _“You did that, yes. And I’m grateful for that. But you did other things too. I... I just can’t anymore. I can’t.”_

 _“What can you do anymore, Robbe? What? US? YOU MEAN US?!”_ , the other started yelling again. 

_“Stop yelling, Wouter”,_ the other said calmly. (Fearfully?)

_“What’s wrong, baby. You used to love when I yelled at you. You used to love to be yell to. My name, over and over again. After I made you come, over and over again. You never begged me to stop, remember? You wanted more. More of the harsh words, the cuffs, the pushing, the burn inside, the pain, right? I remember not having a safe word at one time. That time was fun, no?”_

Sander suddenly felt furious. _What the actual f?_ Was this dipshit really saying what he was thinking right now? No safe word? Pain? Burn inside? What the hell did Wouter do to him? He saw how the expression on the man’s face changed to a cold, emotionless look. The look of something dangerous. Something that rang all the alarms in his brain. His whole body started to prepare, to release inner anger. To fight.

_“I... I...”  
_

_“You want me, right?”_ , the other said, with venom in his mouth. _“You still want me. You can’t stop thinking about me. Even after what I did to you. You keep coming back for more. You want it, Robbe, face it. You want the pain. You love the pain. You love receiving it._

_Even when you say ‘no’,_

_I know you want it._

_Last time, last time was a mistake, you know that. You shouldn’t have said ‘no’. You didn’t mean it. I wouldn’t have drank. I wouldn’t have trying to go to your son’s room. You wouldn’t have fell by pulling me. Then you wouldn’t have had the bruises, the cuts. The broken bones. If you just had let me, I could’ve-”_

He never got to finish that sentence.

Because, after that, a flash of beach blonde hair moved into the man’s vision.

An ex-lover. A father. A man with bottled up agony, hurt and anger.

Someone who needed a ideal release to this volcano eruption.

And Wouter?

Seemed to be the perfect victim.

Excellent even, to liberate him from that pent-up energy.

So for Sander, the world temporarily turned black.

Until only red was left...

-^-

Chernobyl was beautiful at first.

Chernobyl was love second.

Chernobyl was warmth as a third.

But then Chernobyl was also pain.

Agony.

Heart breaking.

A nuclear disaster.

Which Sander discovered the following morning.

When he turned around to kiss his boy.

His beautiful ex-turned-lover-again.

_And found the bed empty._


	4. 'No one sees myself like you do'

He **_knew_** he broke his heart.

Shattering the pieces everywhere. 

He knew they weren’t his to take, to glue together, to hold onto.

Yet, he did it. Again and again.

He caused pain, he felt pain, he gave the pain away. 

He hated pain.

But...

He _loved_ pain.

He deserved it. He always deserved it.

Love was never his, love wasn’t there for him.

He didn’t deserved it.

Pain was better.

_Breathe._

Why?

_Breathe._

Why should he?

_Please?_

Pain was good.

_Just once._

He wasn’t normal.

_Come on, breathe for me._

Was he ever normal?

_Oh god. Come on!_

He was a monster. 

_Goddammit, breathe!_

He didn’t.

He didn’t do it.

He didn’t want to.

A cry.

Soft blurred halo.

Fierce light surrounding him.

Vaguely familiar blonde color in the corner of his eyes.

Deep pressure on his arm.

Harsh sound of a deep cry.

**_“Please, Robbe...”_ **

The pain was enough.

But then...

After a century of darkness.

He took his first breath.

-^-

He didn’t remember how he got there. 

Slowly walking into his home and tracing the soft texture of the eggshell walls, he sighed deeply. He was welcomed back into the silence. As if he never left. As if they were never witness to anything else. Beautiful things had happened. Horrendous things had happened. But the walls would never speak of it. They kept their peace. 

Robbe liked that. 

The color was his pick, of course. As if Sander would have chosen boring beige, cold dark blue or a simple black. Come on. Get real. Back when they were together, he would have rolled his eyes at the suggestions the brown-haired boy would make. Arms crossed with faces close to each other, harsh veins popping out because of all the exertion of the shouting matches.

_“Life is passion, Robbe. Don’t be the boring gay!” “Sander, we’re supposed to live in this, I don’t want to be nauseous of all the weird combinations!” “And what the hell is wrong with red and yellow?” “What’s right about red and yellow?” “God, are you serious?!”_

Hours and hours of discussing splashes of paint, cataloguing each other’s taste, skipping the expensive brands and go into thrift stores to score beautiful furniture, to do it all over again. Yelling, kissing, making up. Falling out of bed, because of the fits of laughter. Mischievous eyes filled with _what now?_ ’s. Slight kisses to temples.

_“Beige and brown!” “Orange and purple!”_

_“Dark blue and light green!” “Salmon pink and aquamarine!”_

Soft Sander. Beautiful lover. His artist.

Always complying at a flutter of eyelashes, bending his knees at a sigh and holding him at one tear. Always there. Ready to take, to caress and to mend. Late nights in bed with their little baby boy in their midst, whispering sweet words to let him catch on. Telling him stories about his day. About the weird accountant who wanted a beautiful portrait of his awful boss. Probably to throw darts at it, he figured. Why else? 

_A cute giggle._

Oh, did he tell you about the elderly couple? Together for more than fifty years, alive and kicking. They wanted their love honored by making a beautiful portrait. _“Yes, no problem”_ , he had said. After discussing the price, set-up and deadline, Sander had instructed them to sit down to pose. And that’s when they took off their clothes. _“Ah, didn't we tell you? It’s a nude portrait!”_

David had always been charmed by his papa’s life. Bowie was his hero, blonde hair and leather jackets was his forté. And the tiny boy was just following along. Worshipping every tiny piece. It ran in his blood, didn’t it? Being extraordinary? The artistry? His mother wasn’t conventional either. Noor was special, artsy and beautiful. So each day would pass and their son would be more and more like Sander. A light in the darkness.

And Robbe **wasn’t**.

He was cold, boring and hollow.

Like now, he was standing in his own home, not knowing what to do or say. He didn’t know how to get going, how to move along and change the course. It had all happened, but did it actually? Was he _there_? He could feel the ground beneath his feet, the musky air in his lungs, the color of the walls. But was he there? Had he ever been here? Was he truly him?

His hand immediately went to his arm, nails scratching the hardness of skin. And Robbe started to walk around. He needed to feel the space, to know where he was. Anxiously pacing the wool carpet he had chosen to compliment the couch in their tiny living room. A space that had been filled with beautiful memories. That of Jens doing a handstand to impress his nephew and almost crashing into their new coffee table, for example.

His feet were slowly shuffling towards their dining room and kitchen. A small smile appeared at Robbe’s face, because he remembered how Moyo would make their regular tapas evenings happen here. Before they all had settled down with their partners and became too busy to organize them again. _“I’m the best chef cook of the Western Hemisphere, Robbe! You’ll see!”_ , he said the first time.

Right before the fire alarm went off. 

The next memory flashed before his eyes. Amber and Aaron coincidentally sitting in close proximity of each other. The one looking at the other, right when the other turned their gaze downwards. Jana subtly nudging her husband and whispering her observations. _“They still love each other,”_ Robbe had heard from her. _“Why won’t they go back together?”_ With a slight shrug from Jens as a response. _“What can we do about it?”_

He felt hurt.

Well, that was something.

A feeling.

A little red stain on his finger? Robbe huffed, looking down at the color. Red is a beautiful shade, isn’t it? So passionate, deep and yet, something that connected all of them. A thrilling feeling. Finally something that connected him to all his friends, his family, his own son. His ex-lover. He never truly felt tied to them all, especially in the later years.

_A beep on his cell._

He was grey, as grey as the sharp steel in the kitchen. He wasn’t special. He never understood why Sander thought he was. Why his son would pick that exact song, the one which ripped his heart out and made him feel 16 years old again? Right then and there, at a beach town supermarket, a cute guy whirling him around on a supermarket cart. A feeling that went up and up, never coming down. 

_A text._

Pain was inevitable, he had learned. With Noor. With Sander. With David. Because children were a blessing, they'd always be the good in the world. That’s why he needed to protect the boy, from all evil. Why he would let himself be pushed off the stairs, so not one beautiful curl on his head would be harmed. Psychically or emotionally. 

_\- “I’m coming to talk to you” -_

No other dark eyes filled with sorrow.

Only his.

-^-

_“Come on, baby! Dance for me, you know you want to!”_

_“Wouter, please, stop it... You’re going to wake up my son.”  
_

_As if he cared..._ _Wouter just kept pulling at Robbe’s sweater, trying to discard it, so he could dug his nails at his bare arms. His response was to shut himself off._ _He wasn’t going to stop anyways, so why bother? Robbe liked it too, didn’t he? Sure he did. When the other man nipped at his ear, slowly biting a trail down his neck and loosening his belt. He really loved it. Right?_

_“Rob- just do it for me. I’m too tired to move along!”, the man growled.  
_

_His breath filled with distain and mixed with the stench of cheap liquor. Eyes watered down to dimmed grey and clouds covering the sun. His hands were calloused, rough, manhandling him towards the end of the bed. The man named Robbe discarding his lover’s pants and hoping to shush loud moans by softly kissing his lips. His palm sweetly caressing, was met with a sharp pain in his wrist. Hmmm..._

_“I want it now. Don’t give me that blabla about lube and kissing gently. Just put a condom on already! I’m ready. You are too!”  
_

_Fear struck. Made him come out of the daze. Back into his mind. Robbe moved along to the other’s body, gripped the hip and pulled it from his orbit. Followed by a furious growl, whilst fingers formed a fist. He didn’t want it to happen. It would happen anyway. But still, he couldn’t say yes to this. This wasn’t what he wanted. Stop. Don’t do this._

_“Wouter, stop it please...”, he whispered. “I don’t want this”  
_

_“What do you mean_? _You always say yes to this! It’s me your talking to, not some loser from the street, dumb-dumb.” Sickeningly sweet tone. A flower clearing through the greyish woods. An inkling of hushed love. Two bodies breathing together, bothered in various ways. But his head still screamed ‘no’. Greasy lips on his chest, licking towards his stomach._

_“I don’t want to, Wouter. Not tonight.”  
_

_Silence._

_Pull away._

_“Okay.”  
_

_“Okay?”  
_

_“Yes, of course, Robbe. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want to. What kind of guy do you think I am? I’m not like that filthy know-it-all you call your ex. I mean, it’s not because you have a son with him, that you need to jump when he asks you to. You’re not his plaything... You’re mine. Right?”  
_

_Wouter’s face contorted in a sly grin. He knew he shouldn’t fall for that, Robbe knew better. But did he? Maybe... Maybe his boyfriend was right? Sander did boss him around, when it came to their son. Always expecting to jump? But that wasn’t Sander was it? He didn’t know. He couldn’t think._

_His thoughts were interrupted by his lover huffing out a short laugh. Seemed to be sobering up, a little. Maybe. “You shouldn’t worry your pretty head too much, darling. You’ll get wrinkles. But if we’re not going to do anything, I’ll need something to get the edge off. It’s been a long, hard damned week. I at least deserve a break. You want some?”_

_Oh, Robbe knew what ‘some’ meant. The brown haired boy didn’t like this feeling. Of not being in charge what was going to happen. He shook his head, while his chest slowly closed up. The last memory he had of that stuff, was Wouter breaking his dresser. All because Robbe made a comment about his unemployment. A throw-away remark, that’s all it was._ _He was going to shut his mouth now._

_It only took him a half hour._

_“You know, sweetie. I always wondered what so special about that boy of yours. He’s the apple of your eye, right? A spitting image of you both. And yet, he isn’t. The son of an unknown father and a dead mother. Beautiful that you took him in. That’s true. But what’s so special about those blonde curls?”_

_Ice._

_His blood turned to ice. Is this how murderous anger felt? It felt really close. His body was too slow at first to follow his coked-up partner to the stairs. But_ _caught him, before Wouter could step one foot towards the child’s door. Hissing. He felt like a wild animal, a lion trying to protect its cub, when he spit out:_

 _“_ _Don’t. Even. F*. Dare. Touching. Him. Or. I’ll. Kill. You. With. My. Bare. Hands.”_

_Dark storm clouds looked into his. Venom in the mouth._

_“Does he know, Robbe... Does he know he’s not yours? That he’s a boy that’s neither made from love between two men nor out of a conscious decision by his true mother? Never knowing his real father, having two fake ones instead. You told me that, you know. You might not remember, but I do. I know what you said about little David, sweet darling son...”_

_Robbe froze on the spot. His fight-or-flight-reaction going into full overdrive. The hair on his arms standing up, senses completely aware of his surroundings. All while still having no shirt on, he now remembered. What a ridiculous thought. Him, a man, of barely 1.68m and bare chested, trying to fight someone without pants and at least a head bigger than him.  
_

_And yet... So tempting..._

_“I remember what you said, Robbe. You were blubbering all over me, crying about that beach blonde bitch again. Typical. But then you said it to me. Your real fear... That he isn’t yours. That he looks so much like Sander, beautiful unattainable Sander. Boohoo. And never like the boring you. That you blame your ex for that! That’s what you said, right? ‘I’ll never be good enough for sweet David, Sander seems to be’. That’s adorable. Truly. Adorable.”  
_

_Poison._

_In his veins._

_Deafening silence._

_“Maybe I should tell him, darling? All. Of. It. What do you t-”_

_Hard grunting. Hands everywhere. Red scratches._

_Black irises taking over the grey._

_Pushing and pulling._

_Shouting. Screaming. Crying._

_Tilting worlds. Tumbling. Tripping._

_Falling. Falling. Falling._

_Pain._

_Black._

_And a few days later:_

_“Don’t tell papa I broke my arm, okay? It’s nothing to worry about, please sweetie?”_

_Followed by a soft:_

_“Okay, paps. I won't.”_

_-^-  
_

_“It’s better this way...”  
_

_“I know.”  
_

_“You know this is the only way.”_

_“I knów.”  
_

Beautiful deep eyes. A pained expression. The back of a hand tracing his cheek. Wiping away the tears trickling down. A watery smile. This feeling of being left alone with all the responsibility on his shoulders, was somehow even worse than breaking up. But he shouldered through it anyway. He needed to. He needed to be strong for someone else.

_“Robbe...”  
_

_“Sander, don’t...”_ , the other tiny boy whispered. " _Just promise you’ll take care of him. You’re the only one I trust with him.”_ His little hands still covering the man’s rosed cheeks. Fresh bandages wrapped around the fragile arms. Memories of closing, days of grey clouds and unspoken communication. Sander nodded his head. But he needed to say it, to get the feelings off his chest. 

_“I’m so sorry, Robbe. I didn’t know. I was supposed to be there for you. In sickness and in health, right?”_ A pained smile from both of them. _“I meant it, schat. And I mean it now. I didn’t... I should’ve... We wouldn’t have...”_ Sander looked down. He couldn’t find the words to describe what he felt. 

_“It’s okay”_ , his love answered. A fluttery kiss to his right cheek. _“I’m still here. I’m not going away. Not for long at least. And then we can start again. We can start over... Maybe. Only... If you want to. I mean... If you still-”_

_“I still love you. I’ll always will. I’m never going to stop.”_

_“Me neither.”_

A ruffle through brown hair.

A featherlight hug.

A light giggle from him.

A cute wink he managed himself. 

_“Chill...”  
_

_“Chill..."_

Then he watched the brown jacket step towards the entrance, right into the arms of the welcoming nurses. All warmly tapping his shoulder, introducing themselves and trying to make him feel at home. Nodding at what he's saying. Already knowing why he's there, but listening anyways. They were going to be good for him. Just like they were good for Sander, a lifetime ago.

But before his life partner stepped through the door, he made a stop and turned around quickly.

With a glint of mischief on his face.

_“So, what are we going to do in the next minute?!”_

And a loud response for the artist, surprising even himself:

_“In the next minute, I’ll wait for you!”_

_And waiting he did._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah well, yes, I intended for the first part of this chapter to be ambiguous. You, as a reader, can choose to think really dark or not. 
> 
> \- I'm adding an epilogue too! I promise fluff, I do! -

**Author's Note:**

> I'm Flemish, not a native English writer. So if you find any mistakes, please point them out!
> 
> Hope you liked it, if yes, please don't restrain yourself from commenting or kudo'ing 😘 Very much appreciated!


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